However she didn’t ask any questions about his life at sea and he told her no more than he wanted to. He continued to get his pleasures on the merchantman trading the China seas - the comfortable cabin and considerable personal freedom. He was treated like a boss with a friendly reception in the ports and as much drink and sex as he wanted, provided he kept himself fit enough to do his job. He was called “Mr Bostock” by the crew and the port staff and that felt good.
He sighed, lifted his bag in one beefy hand and opened the gate with the other. He walked up the short path to the front door and stopped to search his pocket for the key. Failing to find it, he thumped on the door with his fist and waited for Marion to come and let him in. She’d be surprised to see him.
He didn’t recognise the woman who opened the door. She was perhaps a few years older than him - in her early forties. She was shorter than Marion and a bit on the plump side, with fair straggling hair and sagging tits.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Who are you?”
“What?”
“Where’s my wife? Where’s Marion?”
“Oh, you must be Gary. Thank goodness you’re back. Marion will be so pleased you came straight home.”
“Why? What’s happened? Where is she?”
“Well, she went back to the club tonight.” She shook her head. “I said that it wasn’t wise. I said that surely they’d let her have a few nights off until she was sure she was over it.”
“Over what?”
“Oh.” The woman’s hand went to her mouth. Her eyes were suddenly fearful. “Don’t you know what happened?”
“Of course I don’t. I haven’t heard from Marion for weeks - for months. What’s going on, Mrs -?”
“King. I’m Andrea King. I live just up the road. I’m baby-sitting for Tracey.” The woman seemed to collect herself. “Please come in. I assume that you’re Gary. Marion often talks about you.”
“Hah,” he snorted. “Nothing complimentary, I bet.”
He followed her into the sitting room, shutting the front door behind him. Then he looked round.
“Where’s Tracey?”
“She’s just gone up to bed. I was just going …” She stopped abruptly.
“Bit early for bed, isn’t it?”
“Oh, she usually goes up early. She likes to read in bed.”
He dropped his bag and went into the hall. At the foot of the stairs he called up, “Tracey.”
A girl’s face appeared at the top, peering round the balusters. “Yes?”
“Got a kiss for your dad?”
“All right.”
There was a rustle as she came downstairs. He noticed she hadn’t changed into her pyjamas. He put his arms round her and kissed her squarely on the mouth. He could feel her reluctance and let her go. Her reaction fuelled his anger towards her absent mother.
He looked at the girl for a minute. She was starting to develop and fill out. He could see the slight swelling of her chest and her face was rounder than he remembered. Somehow she reminded him of a Chinese girl he knew in Hong Kong, but he put that from his mind.
“OK,” he said. “You’d better go up to bed. I want to find out about your mum.”
He returned to the living room and closed the door. The baby-sitter was sitting down and had picked up her book as though to start reading again.
He started ponderously. “So just what’s going on with my wife? Where is she?”
“Er - she’s down at the club on Wednesday nights.”
“What club is this?”
She tried to change the subject. “Marion told me the other day that you weren’t expected back for another three or four weeks.”
“Yes. Well, the ship needed some unexpected repairs, so I decided to fly back.”
“You didn’t warn her you were coming?”
He shrugged. “It all happened a bit quick. In fact I nearly missed the plane. If I had, I’d have been stuck in Macao for another week.” But he wasn’t going to be side-tracked. “Now what’s this about Marion and some club?”
“She - well, she works behind the bar, I think - serving drinks, that sort of thing.”
“Why does she do that?”
“I suppose she needs the money.” The woman seemed embarrassed.
“Hmph. Wants to live it up, does she? So, Andrea, tell me some more about this job my wife has in the club.”
“I don’t know very much really.”
“Where is it for a start?”
“It’s called the Red Garter. It’s on the road out of Paignton towards Brixham.”
“I know where that is. How does she get there?”
“I think she takes a bus. But, because she finishes late, they arrange for a taxi to bring her home.”
“What time does she finish?”
“She normally gets back about twelve-thirty.”
Did he detect a slight hesitation? “What do you mean - normally?”
“Well,” she looked round the room as if she was trying to find the right thing to say. “She told me not to say anything to anybody, but I don’t think she would have meant you. I thought you already knew. I thought that’s why you had come back early.”
“I’ve explained that. Go on.”
“Well - last Sunday she was very late.”
“Why?”
“She - she’d had trouble with some army officer.”
“What do you mean - trouble?”
She shook her head. “I really think you ought to talk to her about it.”
“Oh, I shall, don’t you worry.” He faced her, hands on hips. “What sort of trouble did she have with this guy?”
“I don’t know all the details, but I think he’d drunk a lot.”
“And what did he do?”
Andrea looked upset. “I really think you should talk to Marion about it. I don’t know exactly what happened.”
“Did he shag her?” he shouted.
“Shush. Tracey will hear you.”
“I don’t give a damn.” He was standing over her now. “Did this guy shag my wife? Did she let him do it?”
“No.” She gestured pathetically. “Please sit down, Mr Bostock. You’re frightening me.”
He realised it looked as though he was threatening her. He backed away. “Sorry. Do you know if she had sex with this man?”
She nodded. “I think so. But I’m sure she didn’t let him do it.”
“But still he did it. The bastard shagged her and she didn’t stop him.”
“She told me he was very strong and half drunk. She said she couldn’t stop him.” The woman was almost pleading with him.
“What do you mean - she couldn’t stop him? All she had to do was keep her legs together.”
“It wasn’t as easy as that. You should have seen her when she got back. She was in an awful state - all wet and half-covered in mud. Her clothes were wrecked.” Andrea took a breath. “I can tell you she didn’t give up easily.”
“So it was rape.” His expression was evil. “What did the police say? Have they caught the bugger?”
“I - I don’t know what’s happened since. I haven’t really talked to her since Sunday. You’ll have to ask Marion.”
He looked at her angrily. “She has told the police, hasn’t she?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I haven’t wanted to talk to her about it in case I caused more upset. In any case the club’s closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. So tonight was the first time I’ve seen her since - since it happened.” She shook her head again. “And she had to rush off because I was a bit late. Georgie had clarinet practice at school.”
“So she didn’t have any problem in going back there again.”
“Well, she said she couldn’t let them down. They’ve promised to make sure she has someone with her in future when she goes out to get into her taxi. They were very good to her on Sunday. Mr Martin, the owner, brought her home in his Mercedes. He offered to take her to hospital or to call the doctor, but she sa
id she was all right.”
“So she didn’t fight hard enough to get hurt?”
“I didn’t mean that,” said Andrea anxiously. “She didn’t give up easily. Apparently he threw her on the bonnet of his car and knocked the breath out of her.”
“So that was all he had to do to be able to rape her?”
“Oh, Mr Bostock,” she entreated, “you’ve got to realise how she felt. He had her in the car park in the dark in the middle of the night. It must have been terrifying for her. I don’t think I could have stood up to someone in those conditions.”
“What the hell was she doing in the car park? I know the place you mean. The car park’s round the back. Normally there’s a light on but the area’s pretty rough. Why did she let him take her out there?”
“I don’t know. You must ask Marion, Mr Bostock. She’ll tell you exactly what happened.”
“Oh, I will, Mrs King.” His lips were compressed. “I intend to have it out with her when she returns. When will that be? Did you say half past twelve?”
“That’s right. Round about that time.”
“OK. I’ll wait and surprise her.” He took a breath to calm himself. “Very well, there’s no need for you to stay any longer. You might as well go home.”
“Oh, all right.” She stood and picked up her book and cardigan. “You will be gentle with her, won’t you?” she asked as she made for the door.
“Believe me, Mrs King, I’m going to be looking after her very best interests.”
“That’s good.” She half-smiled. “Poor dear. It’s been a terrible experience for her.”
He followed her into the hall and opened the front door.
“Yes. Poor dear,” he said as he closed it behind her. Then he went back into the sitting room to have a cigarette and wait for his wife’s return.
- 6 -
Detective Chief Inspector Charlotte Faraday received the call from the sergeant on the front desk as she was about to leave her aunt’s for work. The man seemed stressed.
“I’ve got a woman and her husband here, ma’am. He says she was raped in a car park on Sunday night.” He lowered his voice. “The man’s making an awful fuss.”
Charlotte almost said, “I’m not surprised.” However she restrained herself.
“Well, George, I was just about to leave. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes or so. Can you put them in the nicest interview room and give them a cup of tea.”
“I’ve already done that, ma’am.”
“Well done. Tell them I’ll be with them as soon as traffic allows. Oh - and George?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can you ring headquarters? Find out how soon we can get the rape councillor down from Exeter.”
“Very well, ma’am.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Due to the early morning traffic it was nearly half an hour later that Charlotte arrived at the police station. George was still on the front desk. He looked flustered.
“The bloke’s making a hell of a stink, ma’am. He’s come out here twice to ask me how long you’re going to be.”
“OK, George. I’ll drop off my briefcase in the office and go straight in. Which room have you put them in?”
“Number five.”
She nodded. “That’s right. Have you been in touch with Exeter?”
“Twice, ma’am.” He looked glum. “I got the duty inspector the second time. I’m afraid there’s no luck there. Apparently the rape councillor’s on holiday for two weeks. They are trying to get hold of a lady psychotherapist they use as a relief, but they point out that it’s still very early in the morning for professionals like that. They say you’re on your own for the next couple of hours.”
Charlotte pursed her lips. “Well, we’ll have to see what sort of a state the lady is in. You say the rape occurred on Sunday night?”
“That’s what her husband said.”
“Hopefully the first shock of the attack will have worn off and she won’t be too upset now.” She started towards her office, then turned back to the sergeant. “Oh, George?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What’s her name?”
He looked at his pad. “Bostock, ma’am. Marion Bostock.”
“Thanks.” She grinned. “Wish me luck.”
Two minutes later she went into interview room five. She saw the woman was slumped in her chair, misery painted on her face. Her husband was seated on the edge of his chair and leaped to his feet as she entered.
“Ah. Something’s happening at last,” he burst out. “Who are you?”
“I’m Chief Inspector Faraday, Mr Bostock.” She offered her hand but he ignored it.
“I hope you know what to do about cases like this.”
Charlotte bent to shake hands with his wife. “Hello, Marion. I have to tell you that I’m an ordinary detective and that I haven’t had special training in this kind of thing. But at least I will be sympathetic. I hope you’ll feel that you can talk to me.”
The brown eyes which observed her lacked lustre. But Charlotte could imagine that a man would find her very attractive when her face sparkled with life. Her figure seemed curvaceous from what she could see of the woman’s body underneath her enveloping cardigan and dark trousers.
“She wants to make a complaint,” broke in Bostock. “My wife was raped in the car park of the Red Garter Nightclub after midnight on Sunday. There were no lights on. Apparently the owner, who is a Mr Martin, claims that vandals had smashed them the previous night. But nothing was done by him to repair them or to report what happened to my wife. The place is a disgrace. It ought to be closed down straight away.”
“Wait a minute,” said Charlotte. “Before I can take any action I must hear from Marion in her own words what happened to her.”
Bostock bristled. “I’ve told you all the facts you need to know. Unfortunately my stupid wife didn’t make a fuss about it at the time, so it’s probably too late to take samples so that you can find out the bloke’s DNA. She even washed her clothes.” He shrugged ponderously. “Would you credit it?”
“Oh, Gary. There’s no point in making a fuss …”
“Shut up,” he shouted. “You’ve been raped. You’re a victim. You need to be compensated.” He turned to Faraday. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Where were you when this happened, Mr Bostock?”
“What? Well,” he blustered, “I was at sea, wasn’t I? I’m second mate on a merchantman. We work the China Seas. I only flew back last night.”
“You flew back because your wife told you she’d been raped?”
“No.” He shrugged. “She couldn’t get in touch with me. My ship put in to Macao for repairs and I flew back from there. If I hadn’t come back the silly bitch would probably have tried to forget it happened and the bloody nightclub would have got off scot-free.”
“So how did you get to know about it?”
“She didn’t tell anybody except the baby-sitter - and the owner of the nightclub, of course. He’s called Martin. I expect you’ll want to interview him.”
“You had a baby-sitter?” asked Charlotte.
“I’ve got a twelve-year-old daughter,” explained Marion. “The baby-sitter is a neighbour who looks after Tracey when I’m working at the Club.”
“She’s called Andrea King,” said Bostock. “She lives at 32 Blandford Crescent. You’ll want to interview her as well.”
“How many nights a week do you work at this night club?”
“Five.” Marion sniffed. “Wednesdays to Sundays, eight o’clock till midnight.”
“Not any more, she doesn’t. I can tell you I’ve put a stop to that.” He looked suitably outraged. “I won’t have my wife working in some scruffy sex club.”
“It’s not a sex club,” she protested.
“Not a sex club?” Bostock rounded on Charlotte. “You should see the bloody dress she’s expected to wear. You can virtually see her tits when she’s got it on.
No wonder the blokes who go in there end up raping her. I tell you, you’re going to have to shut the place down. It shouldn’t be allowed to stay open a day longer. A night, I mean.”
“I’m sure the club will have a licence granted to it by the local magistrates,” said Charlotte. “Of course we’ll check whether they’re keeping within the conditions laid down in the licence.”
Marion at last showed some spirit. “The Red Garter is properly run. Mr Martin is always very correct in how he treats everybody. This was partly my fault. I didn’t realise how much the man had drunk. He was upset because his best mate had been killed in Afghanistan. I was being sympathetic. I didn’t realise he fancied me.”
“Shut up, Marion. Saying things like that doesn’t help our case.” He turned back to Charlotte. “There’s no excuse for rape, is there?”
“There certainly isn’t, Mr Bostock.”
“Well - what are you going to do about it?”
“The first thing I have to do is get a clear picture of exactly what happened and you’re not helping me do that,” said Charlotte firmly. “I must have a quiet talk with Marion on her own. I want you to go and sit in the waiting room while we talk.”
“I’m not going to do that,” said Bostock. “She’s likely to tell you all sorts of crap to get her employer off the hook.”
The Chief Inspector faced him. “Mr Bostock, the rules of evidence insist that each witness, including the victim, is interviewed independently by two police officers without any third parties present to influence their statement, other than a solicitor if they request it. Evidence obtained under any other conditions will not be accepted by a court. If we are to have any chance of convicting the man who raped your wife we must collect the evidence correctly.”
“So when do I get a chance to have my say?”
“After we’ve taken a statement from your wife you will get your opportunity. You may then make any allegations or claims which you wish.”
“Oh.” He thought for a few seconds. “I want to see what she says in her statement so that I can correct any stupid things she comes out with.”
“If the matter goes to court, Mr Bostock, all the statements which the prosecution decides to use will become public knowledge and the court will apply the proper tests to anything anybody says. That includes your statement, if it is used.”
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